Memories of hot sand and good health

Fifteen years ago this week, I was preparing for a trip that eventually was quite a turning point in my life.

I was taking some crash lessons in Japanese and learning all that I could about that country’s culture in a very short time.

Don’t leave your chopsticks sticking straight up in a rice bowl, I was told, it means death. To them the number 4 is unlucky, much like the number 13 is to us. And the deeper you bow, the more respect you have for the person you are bowing to.

I was part of a five-member group selected by Rotary International to go on an exchange tour to the southern-most island of Kyushu. Joining me was a firefighter from Port Orchard, Wash., an attorney from Tacoma, a business professor from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, and a social worker, also from Victoria. At the time, I lived in Poulsbo, Wash.

For six weeks, we stayed in Japanese homes, visited all kinds of Japanese businesses, and were generally treated like rock stars.

It was a great group. I met so many wonderful people there. Needless to say it was the trip of a lifetime and I miss them all very much.

One the best memories of that trip was a visit to a little resort town on the southern tip of Japan. And, man, could I ever use a return visit now. These bones are getting older and a little more weary with each passing winter.

In Ibusuki, there is something called hakusuikan, which translates roughly to “hot sand baths.” I’ve read that it may be the only place in the whole world where they can be found.

The Japanese say they are “good for your health.”

The beaches in that resort town are in the shadow of Sakurajima, or Flower Island, which really isn’t an island at all but does have lots of flowers. In 1914, a volcano erupted there, spilling so much lava that the one-time island is now connected to the peninsula.

Sakurajima, at 3,600 feet above sea level, is still an active volcano, dumping ash on the surroundings almost weekly. My friends in nearby Kagoshima City say they used to wear hard hats to school, to protect themselves from the fallout.

Hot, natural springs from that volcano drain onto the beaches and wouldn’t you know, it creates a nice little tourist attraction. The hot sand attracts folks from around the globe.

Each bather dons a flimsy, cotton robe and then lies face up in a hole dug in the sand. They are then buried in hot sand up to their necks.

Thus, the treatment begins. The body temperature rises. Blood flows freely. And all that waste washes out in your pores.

You lie there until your skin can no longer stand it, which for me was about 15 to 20 minutes. Then you pop from the sand and into an onsen, which is like a hot tub without the jets. An onsen is also considered “good for your health.”

The Japanese have a pretty good handle on making the body feel good. They believe in very hot water and they go through it by the tubs full. Maybe that’s why their life span is longer than anyone on the planet. Seafood diets and plenty of walking to transit stations also help.

Our trip lasted from late February to early April. Regretfully, we left just before the cherry blossoms were about to pop.

Nine months later, my wife’s job allowed me to return to Japan, where we lived for three years. Every day was a new adventure.

And, yes, the Japanese may may have a point. Even now, 15 years later, just thinking about it is “good for your health.”

If you know of someone who would be interesting to feature in a column, call Jim Rothgeb at (951) 676-4315, ext. 2621, or email jim.rothgeb@californian.com.